


Bittersweet Love

by CozyCryptidCorner



Series: The Nøkken [2]
Category: Original Work, exophilia - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, blowjob, fae, nøkken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CozyCryptidCorner/pseuds/CozyCryptidCorner
Summary: Besides the occasional nightmare, your Nøkken is adjusting well to your new life together. In fact, he wants to show you how much he appreciates you. You playfully sabotage his efforts to pleasure you, turning the tables and making surehe'sthe one feeling appreciated.





	Bittersweet Love

**Author's Note:**

> So if you're just swinging through lookin' for smut, here you go! If you are like me and need a little backstory as to who the person is that we're fucking, go ahead and skip back to the previous work in the series.

He remembers drowning.

 

Water suffocating him on all sides, the moonlight kissing the surface he just couldn’t reach. The burning sting of his lungs as his vision spotted, hands grasping upwards for anything to miraculously save him. No matter how hard his legs kicked, no matter how he struggled, something dragged him further and further down until his eyes stopped seeing, and his lungs let out one single gasp in the hopes of receiving air.

 

He opens his eyes. Oxygen soothes the soreness in his chest, as though he truly held his breath throughout the nightmare. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his skin, a breeze wisping a pleasant chill from an open window. He looks down at the fluffy covers that bury his legs, then over at a small table to the side of his bed. A black square with a shiny front blinks bright red symbols, and though he knows they are numbers, he can’t remember which ones they are.

 

In fact… where is he? The last thing he remembers is… colors. A swath of colors on the puffiest dress he’s ever seen, a carefully sculpted mask covering her face.  _I’ve come to make a bargain,_  she said, her voice airy but firm. He didn’t refuse her, how could he? A beautiful woman seeking out a monster’s assistance, a person who could buy anyone and anything yet she came to  _him,_  and-

 

Besides him, the bed shifts. Startled, he shifts his gaze down to a person-sized lump under the covers, his chest tightening. He… would  _never-_  would he? Hands shaking far more than he would ever admit, he grips the end of the blanket, and with a small amount of fear, lifts the cover away to reveal your sleeping face.

 

It comes back to him then, along with an overwhelming sense of relief. His chest relaxes, his heart slowing the painful hammering, and instead swelling with a love he had forgotten. Your body is bare, and once exposed to the sweet night air of summer, you curl your arms around your chest and mumble something incoherent. His thighs are a tad worn, his arms a little weak, all symptoms of the delicious soreness that accompanies sex. Carefully, he places the blanket back over your body, though one of your arms swing over the material as though to hold it down from any further shenanigans.

 

The moonlight bleeds in from the winder, casting your shoulder in the cold glow. Without thinking much further, he reaches over, tentatively running his fingers over your exposed skin.  _Kind. Smart. Mine,_  he reassures himself, fully remembering where he is now. On the very edge of the swamp, his resting place, his home, in his lover’s bed, in the early hours of the morning before all the human stuff has to take precedence over him.

 

He can sleep anytime you are gone, he decides, watching the way you shift under the covers. Might as well enjoy the view for now. Though he decides he’s only doing this because he misses you whenever you leave, deep down he knows that he also needs to reassure himself that you are real, solid, that you aren’t a phantom that will disintegrate beneath his fingertips. Laying his head down against the pillow, he places his lips against the back of your neck and matches his breathing with yours.

 

Morning comes as it always does, though he prays to any god who might take pity on him that the night might last a little longer. He looks at the clock again as the sun begins to creep up on the horizon, silently debating waking you a little early. His hand snakes down beneath the covers, finding the curve of your hips, and then your thighs, hoping to wake you in the most gentle and arousing way possible.

 

You wake in response to his touches, your breathing shifting to a sharper intake, your eyes fluttering open as a hot spark begins warming your core. His hand slips between your legs to your innermost thigh, stroking the area he knows will turn you on.

 

“What- what time is it?” You ask, voice husky with sleep.

 

“Morning,” he estimates without looking over to the clock. “Almost time for you to wake up, however,” his index finger traces the outline of your pussy, “I thought maybe I can send you off a little more relaxed than usual.” Perhaps it is because he is extremely out of practice, or maybe it’s just that he wants you so badly, but he finds it somewhat difficult to keep the Charm out of his voice.

 

As you reach over to grip his arm, he knows he has you melting around his fingers. The little sigh that escapes your lungs is like music to his ears, because he knows that noise means that you are letting the arousal take over.

 

“Is that your plan, now?” Your tone switches from sleepy to playful, though still not fully awake.

 

“I take it you also think the idea is wonderful?” He rolls over, pinning your smaller frame beneath him.

 

“I don’t find it utterly repulsive.” Your hands wrap around his hips, settling on his ass.

 

You taste faintly like bitter mint when he kisses you. It’s chaste, impossibly tender as though he isn’t planning on going through a list of positively filthy things he already comprised while you were sleeping. His fingers slip between your folds, massaging the overly sensitive skin while he slides his tongue into your mouth. Oh, yes, he loves how your hips buck up on their own, as though searching for more pleasure, something that he is happy to provide.

 

With no warning, he breaks off the kiss, burying his face into your neck and lashing his tongue out to taste the salt of your skin. Your scent,  _gods,_  your taste, it almost overwhelms him. Nearly all of his blood floods downwards into his cock, his head light and fuzzy with arousal as he takes a moment to just breathe, placing a kiss on your collarbone. Everything is too much,  _you,_  especially, and it’s all far more than what he could deserve.

 

“Are you alright?” You ask quietly, as though sensing his turmoil.

 

“I have the most beautiful and brilliant lover beneath me, how could I be anything but magnificent?” It’s not a lie as he finds it immensely difficult to speak untruths, but it also doesn’t reveal anything more because no, no,  _no,_  he can’t talk about it. Not now. Perhaps never.

 

You look at him, eyes glimmering in the soft pink of dawn, and accept his answer while clearly not believing it. With steady hands, you grip his waist and offer a tentative smile. “Flip over, lover boy. I want to be on top this time.”

 

The mattress is blissfully gentle against his back as he lays down, his cock throbbing and hot as you slide over it, his precum smearing between your thighs as though marking you as his. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine as he gazes up, your eyes flickering over his body, figuring out where best to start. Your index finger traces the contours of his chest in fascination, as though you had never seen a naked body before.

 

“Do you enjoy the view?” He has to ask, wanting to hear the sweet words drip from your lips like honey.

 

You hum in response, palms laying flat on his pecs. He can feel your hot blood pounding in your veins through your skin, he can smell the arousal dripping from your core. His mouth waters at the memory of your taste, and he wants to pull your waist forward so he can lick you dry. But you have other plans, apparently involving kissing down his body, towards his cock.

 

At the very last moment, you move back up, teasing him like the little minx you are. As if in response to his indignant thought, your fingers move to his chest and you pinch at his nipples. The pleasure it brings him is sharp, almost painful, but deliciously exquisite all the same. He didn’t think his cock could get any harder until you bend over, taking one of his pebbling nipples into your mouth. His stomach grows warmer, and his balls grow tighter as you continue lavishing him with your tongue and teeth. You trace your tongue in the valley of his chest, moving on to his other half, kissing him gently as though apologizing for picking it last.

 

His back arches as he threads his fingers through your hair, your steadily growing determination to unravel his very soul growing with every moan you can pull from his mouth. You move down, placing a kiss just above his belly button, then right on the slight bulge of his pelvis, then,  _then,_  right on the tip of his cock. Gripping the sheets, he lets out a hard huff of air in an attempt not to cum hard, here and now.

 

It’s blue, and that’s not a metaphor, that’s the actual color of his reproductive organ. A cerulean with a touch of sea green, the same shade as his camouflaging freckles that dot along his skin. It openly weeps for you, a bead of precum dribbling down the side tantalizingly slow. You watch it, looking back up at him as if to say  _look how much you want me, look what I can do to you._  It’s dirty, it’s filthy, and he  _loves it._

 

You lick the trail of precum off the side of his shaft, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to grab you too roughly. Your tongue is made for sin, the way it laps at his length like tasting the sweetest of candy causes the air from his lungs to escape him in unsteady gasps. Then you take the head in your mouth, and  _gods above and below,_  the  _noises_  you’re making. Obscene kissing, slurping, sucking,  _fuck._  You open your throat and slide down, gradually taking his entire cock into your mouth.

 

“My light, my love,” he manages to find the breath to coo, adding only a marginal bit of the Charm in his voice to maximize to the impact of his words, “your mouth feels so good.” His fingers massage your scalp, hands shaking with anticipation. “You’re going to milk me if-” he chokes as your teeth graze a sensitive spot, his hips bucking up against his will.

 

Oh, you are going to milk him, all right. Not ‘if.’  _Now._  You begin to bob your head, moving up and down the length of his cock with the fervor of an animal in heat. Already he can feel his hips shaking, his muscles twitching, his unworthy body submitting to the pleasure you ravish him with. He cums, his orgasm like a rock to glass, shattering up through his spine and causing every piece of him to quake. He moans something incoherent, a string of syllables that have no meaning, his back arching and his sperm running into your mouth.

 

You look at him, dead in the eyes, and swallow.

 

He helps you rinse off in the shower. ‘Help’ defined as ‘pinning you to the tile wall and rubbing your clit until you cum,’ all the while whispering every single filthy way he was going to worship you when you came back home. “Unless,” his voice is almost pleading, “you don’t leave. Then I can do it all now.”

 

“I have to work to survive in this capitalist hellscape,” you respond in a teasing tone, either not noticing how close he is to begging or ignoring it. You shove a bit of food in your mouth, checking to make sure you have everything you need.

 

“Be safe,” he says quietly, knowing the Charm doesn’t help in matters beyond your control but wishing it could. Wanting it to guarantee your return to him.

 

“I will.” You kiss him on the cheek and leave, the screen door swinging shut behind you, the slam like a final gunshot.

**Author's Note:**

> *Youtuber voice* If you liked what you read, smash that kudos button! Want to tell me how much you liked this fic? Leave me a comment! Want to keep tabs on my writings? Subscribe and you get a free (yes, FREE) email every time I publish a fic! Want me to write more? Shower me with praise because positive reinforcement motivates me to work!


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